Fifteen-year-old Nell MacDermott turned and began the swim back to shore. Her body tingled with youthful exhilaration as she looked about, taking in the glorious combination of the sun in the cloudless sky, the light, fresh breeze, the salty, foaming whitecaps breaking around her. She had been in Maui only an hour but already had decided that she liked it better than the Caribbean, which for the past several years was where her grandfather had taken the family for their annual post-Christmas vacation.

Actually, "family" seemed something of an exaggeration. This was the fourth year that their family had consisted of just her grandfather and herself. It had been five years ago when Cornelius MacDermott, legendary congressman from New York, had been called off the floor of the House of Representatives to be given the news that his son and daughter-in-law, both anthropologists on an expedition in the Brazilian jungle, had died in the crash of their small chartered plane.

He immediately had rushed to New York to pick up Nell at school. It was news that she had to hear from him. He arrived to find his granddaughter in the nurse's office, weeping.

"When we were coming in from recess this morning, I suddenly felt that Dad and Mommy were with me, and that they had come to say good-bye to me," she told him as he held her. "I didn't actually see them, but I felt Mom kiss me, and then Dad ran his fingers through my hair."

Later that day, Nell and the housekeeper who took care of her when her parents were away had moved into the brownstone on East Seventy-ninth Street, the place where her grandfather had been born, and where her father had been raised.

Nell flashed briefly on these memories as she began her swim back to shore and to her grandfather, who was sitting in a beach chair under an umbrella, having reluctantly acquiesced to her plea for one quick swim before they unpacked.

"Don't go out too far," he had cautioned as he opened his book. "It's six o'clock, and the lifeguard is leaving."

Nell would have liked to stay in the water longer, but she could see that the beach was almost deserted now, and she knew that in a few minutes her grandfather would realize he was getting hungry and start to get impatient, especially since they hadn't even unpacked. Long ago her mother had warned her that any situation that left Cornelius MacDermott both hungry and tired was to be avoided.

Even from a good distance out, Nell could see that he was still deeply absorbed in his book. She knew though that it wouldn't last much longer. Okay, she thought as she picked up her stroke--"Let's make waves."

Suddenly, she felt disoriented, as if she were being turned around. What was happening to her?

The shore disappeared from view as she felt herself being yanked from side to side, then pulled under. Stunned, she opened her mouth to call for help, but immediately found herself swallowing salty water. Sputtering and choking, she gasped for breath, struggling to keep afloat.

Riptide! While her grandfather was checking in at the front desk, she had overheard two bellmen talking about it.

One of them said that there'd been a riptide on the other side of the island last week, and that two guys had drowned. He said that they died because they fought against the pull instead of letting themselves get carried out until they were beyond it.

A riptide is a head-on collision of conflicting currents. As her arms flailed, Nell remembered reading that description in National Geographic.

Still, it was impossible not to resist as she felt herself being pulled under the churning waves, down, down, and away from shore.

I can't let myself get carried out! she thought in a sudden flash of panic. I can't! If I go out, I'll never get back in. She managed to orient herself long enough to look toward shore and glimpse the candy-striped umbrella.

"Help me!" she said feebly, her effort to scream ending when the salty water filled her mouth, gagging her. The current that was pulling her out and sucking her under was too strong to fight.

In desperation she flipped onto her back and let her arms go limp. Moments later she was struggling again, resisting the horrifying feeling of her body being rushed out away from shore, away from any hope of help.

I don't want to die! she kept saying to herself. I don't want to die! A wave was lifting her, tossing her, pulling her farther out. "Help me!" she said again, then began to sob.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The invisible foamy chains abruptly released her, and she had to flail her arms to keep afloat. This was what they had talked about in the hotel, she thought. She had been tossed beyond the riptide.

Don't get back into it, she told herself. Swim around it.

But she was too tired. She was too far out. She looked at the distant shore. She would never make it. Her eyelids were so heavy. The water was starting to feel warm, like a blanket. She was getting sleepy.

Swim, Nell, you can make it!

It was her mother's voice, imploring her to fight.

Nell, get moving!

The urgent command from her father stung her senses and succeeded in shattering her lethargy. With blind obedience, Nell swam straight out, then began to make a wide circle around the area of the riptide. Every breath was a sob, every movement of her arms an impossible struggle, but she persevered.

Agonizing minutes later, nearing exhaustion, she managed to dive into a swelling wave that grabbed and held her and rushed her toward shore. Then it crested and broke, tossing her onto the hard, wet sand.

Trembling violently, Nell started to get up, then felt firm hands lifting her to her feet. "I was just coming to call you in," Cornelius MacDermott said sharply. "No more swimming for you today, young lady. They're putting up the red flag. They say there are riptides nearby."

Unable to speak, Nell only nodded.

His face creased with concern, MacDermott pulled off his terry-cloth robe and wrapped it around her. "You're chilled, Nell. You shouldn't have stayed in so long."

"Thank you, Grandpa. I'm fine." Nell knew better than to tell her beloved, no-nonsense grandfather what had just happened, and she especially did not want him to know that once again she had had one of those experiences of being in communication with her parents, experiences that this most pragmatic of men brusquely dismissed as a flight of youthful fantasy.